


it's safe to close your eyes here

by Azzandra



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kink Meme, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: Sometimes, what makes a bed comfortable is who you share it with.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert, Annette Fantine Dominic/Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Annette Fantine Dominic/Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	it's safe to close your eyes here

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [prompt](https://fe3h-kinkmeme-light.dreamwidth.org/452.html?thread=97988#cmt97988) on the light kink meme.

It was much too late for anyone to be awake and wandering the castle halls, which was why, when Dedue saw a light still on in the small library off the guest wing, he had a good guess about who would still be there at this hour. But when he passed the threshold of the room, the person Dedue ran into was Ashe, lingering by the entrance. He turned around quickly to raise a finger to his lips, beckoning silence. Dedue, with a greeting frozen on his lips, then followed Ashe's finger as he pointed into the library.

Annette had fallen asleep at the table, surrounded by stacks of tomes and open books, and still clutching a quill in her fingers. Dedue smiled fondly as he saw the small stitch of a frown on her face, the expression of deep thinking that Annette had even in her sleep.

"I was thinking of getting her back to her room," Ashe whispered, "but I don't want to wake her. She hasn't been getting enough sleep lately."

Dedue nodded, understanding. Annette had taken her new post at the Royal School of Sorcery very seriously, and seemingly spent every waking moment deep in research, or lesson plans, or personal study of the esoteric new material on magic that she now had access to. It was a pursuit she enjoyed, but it seemed she had not found a better balance with the rest of her life yet. It felt like he and Ashe had scarcely seen her lately, and Dedue understood why Ashe had been standing only to watch her from the library entrance; a few more weeks of Annette's hectic schedule, and they might well have forgotten her face.

"I'll carry her," Dedue said.

Ashe nodded, and wordlessly assisted Dedue: he pried the quill from Annette's fingers, unpeeled the loose paper that had stuck to her cheek in her sleep, and Dedue gently hoisted her out of her chair and into his arms, cradled against his chest. Annette stirred, then, mumbled something indistinguishable under her breath, but Dedue had her head tucked under his chin, and couldn't see if her eyes had opened. Ashe peered into her face instead, and shook his head; she hadn't woken.

The halls of the castle were empty, and quiet save for the fall of Dedue and Ashe's footsteps. The guest room that Annette had occupied sporadically since the end of the war was not far from the library, and Ashe produced Annette's key at the door.

"I, um... slipped it off her while you were picking her up," Ashe admitted, half proud and half embarrassed, before turning to unlock and open the door.

Dedue did not remark on it.

The guest room had the same look to it as all other rooms in this wing of the castle, but Annette had imprinted her own personality upon it: a clutter of books and strange artifacts on the tables, overspilling onto a chair and then onto the floor; a shawl draped over her bed's headboard; a scent of hyacinths in the air, and the flowers themselves wilting in a vase. The one lamp that Ashe had lit cast sharp shadows across the room, revealing just how much of it was empty spaces and bare furniture.

Ashe flitted diligently about, first pulling back the covers on the bed, and then hurrying to unlace and remove Annette's boots as Dedue still held her. 

Since neither one of them had the temerity to undress her in her sleep, Dedue placed her still fully dressed into bed. It couldn't be comfortable, but at least it was more so than sleeping at a table.

Annette mumbled something again, giving a fierce scowl in her sleep as she did, and Dedue took care to tuck her into bed. He would have straightened up and walked out of the room next, save that Annette's eyes fluttered open, and she fixed her gaze on him so fiercely that Dedue froze in place.

"Dedue?" she whispered tremulously.

Dedue smoothed down her hair.

"It is me. Go back to sleep," he said.

But instead of slipping back into slumber, like he expected, Annette's eyes widened, and tears welled up. Dedue felt a spike of alarm, especially when Annette's hand shot out to grab his sleeve, and grip it tightly.

"I thought you were dead!" she said, voice rough with sleep and filled with misery.

Dedue was stunned. "You... thought I died?" 

"Everyone!" Annette continued, increasingly distressed. "Everyone was dead, and-- and it was all my fault because I didn't to better, and I was all alone and still had to--" Her breath hitched with a restrained sob. "I still had to go on fighting but there wasn't any point to it and--"

"Shh, Annette, shh. It was only a dream," Dedue promised, wiping away tears with his thumbs. "You were having a nightmare, everyone is fine. I promise."

Ashe rounded the bed, coming on the other side and clambering over the mattress. He reached for Annette, and she snatched his hand as well, gripping it tightly.

"We're all fine, Annie," Ashe assured. "You're safe. There's no fighting, I promise."

But Annette was still distraught, and Dedue now felt guilty for not having guessed that she had been in the grips of a nightmare, even as he held her curled against his chest. She'd just been so quiet and still, that he had not guessed what her frowns might have meant. 

He muttered soothing nonsense, kissing her forehead and brushing fingers through her hair, and it seemed to calm her down. Her breathing slowed, and her tears stopped, at any rate, and when she sucked in a breath to calm herself down, it was shaky, but she did not sob.

"Sorry," she said. "You're right, it was just a dream. I was being kind of silly, wasn't I?" She forced a chuckle, and wiped her face with the back of her hand.

"You weren't being silly," Ashe said firmly. He looked indignant more than anything, always quick to defend his loved ones even from themselves. "Do you want us to stay with you for the night?"

Annette blinked, surprised. They didn't spend as much time in her room--solely because of its inconvenient location. And anyway, Dedue had the largest quarters since being given his role as royal advisor, so they had, over the course of their relationship, carved their own little niches there: the reading chair by the fire that Annette and Ashe were always clamoring over; the bench under the window where the light was best for needlework; Dedue's bed, that comfortably fit three people.

But that wasn't what made Annette hesitate. It was a flash of shame, the fear of being a burden or an annoyance: the midnight thoughts that kept Annette awake, because it was late and she was tired and the nightmares were still fresh.

"You don't have to," she said. "It's fine. I'll be fine."

"I know we don't have to, but we want to!" Ashe insisted.

"We would feel better if we knew you are well," Dedue added, "so it would be best if we were here to know that for certain."

Annette sniffled, and chuckled more genuinely this time. Her smile that followed was watery, but not insincere.

"Well, I can't argue with that foolproof argument," she said. 

The course of action decided, there was a scramble to get undressed for bed. Annette unbuttoned her dress, and wriggled out of it gracelessly and without much enthusiasm, throwing it unto a nearby chair. She was down to a shift, and proceeded to remove her stockings next. Ashe was sprightlier, his hands moving quickly across buckles and buttons, removing weapons, tools and clothing with practiced ease. And Dedue, meticulous as always, removed his coat and trousers before draping them carefully across a chair backrest, taking the time to fold Annette's discarded dress as well. 

Thus, he was the last to slip under the covers, next to Annette just as Ashe was bracketing her on the other side. There was some shuffling as they found their place, but they settled together comfortably, and Annette gave a long, deep sigh as they did.

Annette did not have nightmares often, but when she did, their broken logic tended to bleed into her waking thoughts, and she would obsess over their content for weeks on end. Eventually, they would talk things out, and she would talk herself out of whatever fear the nightmares implanted in her head: of failing the ones she loves, of losing them, of being left behind. Nightmares came for them all, after so many years at war, and after so much suffering they'd overcome along their lives. What Dedue had discovered was that they all had more patience for each other, than with their own selves.

For now, they merely lied together, exchanging small affections. Annette was too keyed up to fall asleep yet, and he and Ashe were still settling. But this was fine, too: Ashe's fingers stroking idly against Dedue's forearm, Dedue breathing in the floral scent of Annette's hair, Annette tangling her legs with theirs as she sought to warm up her icy feet.

In the morning Annette would be cheerful, and embarrassed by her lapse in composure, and they would talk to her about her tendency to run herself ragged as she did.

But when dawn came, the first ray of sunlight cracking through a slit in the curtains, Dedue woke before anyone else. Ashe's head was tucked into the crook of Dedue's neck, and Annette had slipped or wriggled downwards sometime during the night, so that her face was pressed against Ashe's sternum, and her arm thrown over his waist. In a large enough bed, Annette was easy to misplace, with how she squirmed and moved in her sleep. But even in her relatively modest one, she still found some way of slipping away. It made amusement pang in Dedue's chest.

They were tangled inextricably, and sweaty from having slept dressed, but there was a comfort in that, where their strange fit together. Dedue closed his eyes again, and fell into another bout of blissful sleep.

* * *

Every year, Fhirdiad would be hit with what Annette called 'the summer sniffles', a cold that had most of the city sneezing and hacking wet coughs throughout Verdant Rain Moon. That year in particular, it had swept through the castle as well, jumping from guards, to servants, to courtiers, leaving everyone with wretched headaches and congested sinuses.

Even less fortunately, it hit Dimitri with unusual strength; his health had already been rickety since the war ended, and even mundane ailments seemed to hit him the worst. But Dimitri pulled through after two weeks of bed rest enforced by every one of their friends, and then the next one it hit was Dedue. Having been responsible for the worst of the mother-henning Dimitri received, Dedue was relegated to bed rest as well until he was well again.

Well, at least Dedue accepted all the fussing around him with more stoicism than Dimitri. Turnabout was fair play, so he said nothing at all when Ashe and Annette showed up to his quarters, Ashe with a bowl of chicken soup, and Annette with a stack of assorted books and a knitting project.

As Dedue made his way through the ludicrously large bowl of soup, Annette filled the silence with a steady stream of chatter about various new books, newly translated from abroad. Dedue had reserved from the stack an interesting looking treaty about the the gardens of Morfis, which the author had actually worked in for a time.

Annette took more of an interest in studies of anatomy and the body, branches of study long censored by the Church. Yet while Fodlan had wallowed in ignorance, other countries marched on in their study of biology, and ample amounts of texts were now being translated to fill in the gaps in knowledge.

"In some places," Annette explained, "they can heal a great deal more without magic, than we can with it! Not that they don't use magic as well, but it has its limitations."

"What, no spell to heal the common cold?" Ashe asked, as he went about the room tidying up. Dedue tended to keep a clean space, but he had been less than up to the task since being bed-ridden.

"Spells can actually extend the duration of some diseases, or make them more deadly," Annette informed him with a serious look on her face. Then her grave facade cracked a bit as her enthusiasm for knowledge broke through. "It's speculated that many diseases are caused by tiny creatures that invade your body, and that there must be something in the blood that fights them off. But a healing spell can inadvertently heal those creatures, so that's why it backfires. It's also speculated that this is why washing hands regularly and general good hygiene can prevent disease, because it kills the creatures before they can get inside your body."

Ashe pulled a face at this information, and inspected his hands with mounting horror. "Are you saying I have tiny invisible creatures on my hands?" he asked.

"Not invisible," Annette huffed, "just so tiny you can't see them with the human eye."

"That's worse," Ashe replied, but morbid curiosity forced him to ask, "How many would there be?"

Annette shrugged. 

"I'm going to wash my hands," Ashe announced, before leaving the room.

Dedue found himself smiling, even as he stared at the half-full bowl of soup, his appetite not quite up to the task of finishing its contents.

Annette must have caught on, because she removed the food tray from his bed, then fluffed up his pillows and had him lay back so she could tuck him in. He would have protested being cosseted so much, except that he felt too fatigued for it, his muscles watery, and Annette's hand was so very cool and soothing as she touched his forehead, and then his cheek, checking his temperature. 

"Mercie's so much better at this stuff," Annette muttered, before squaring her shoulders and giving Dedue a reassuring smile, "but I do know one thing! You need to drink plenty of fluids!"

"I only just ate soup," Dedue pointed out.

"That's a good start," Annette said with a firm nod. "I'll bring you some water, too!"

Dedue did not protest as Annette went to the carafe of water and poured him a glass of water, especially since it felt soothingly sold as he drank it.

Ashe returned soon after, looking not at all perturbed following the conversation he had left on. Instead, he carried a small jar of honey, and insisted a spoonful would do wonders for Dedue's throat. Annette, whose medical expertise was largely theoretical anyway, began telling them about mellification, a process that Dedue had never heard of until then, or even guessed existed. Ashe looked similarly taken aback.

"Annie, where do you find out about this stuff?" Ashe asked at one point, one part dismayed and two parts impressed.

"Oh, you know, I just like reading," Annette said. She was growing flustered. "The School insists I take days off, and they have a very large library."

"I am learning," Dedue said, "a great deal."

Annette looked relieved, but she also changed the subject to more palatable matters, and told them all about Mercedes, and how she was reconnecting with her brother. Dedue found the subject bittersweet, feeling it touch some thrum of longing in his chest, where the idea of meeting again a sibling once thought lost found its resonance. But bittersweet as it was, he did not entirely dislike the feeling, so he listened to Annette speak, and felt glad for Mercedes.

Dedue must have fallen asleep at some point, though he had disconnected memories of a cool hand on his brow, and low voices. When he woke up, it was to Annette dozing in the armchair, her chin propped on her hand, and Ashe curled up next to him, lying on top of the sheets instead of under them.

"Go back to sleep," Ashe whispered, as he smoothed back a lock of Dedue's hair. "It's late."

Dedue wanted to tell him that they should be going back to their rooms, or at least lying down for a proper sleep if it was so late, but he was too bone-weary to even open his mouth. It was so much easier to just close his eyes, and fall into slumber once again. They would be there when he woke up, anyway.

* * *

The end of the war was celebrated each year with more pomp than the one before, and though Dedue's birthday fell on the same day, it seemed that every single one of his friends still found time to also specifically celebrate Dedue growing older by another year.

If not held in check by budgetary restrains, Dimitri would have likely made a bigger to-do about Dedue's birthday each year as well. But, he was also considerate of how private Dedue was about such things, and sensitive to the fact that there were no physical possessions that Dedue appreciated more than the presence of his loved ones.

It was perhaps for this reason that, one year, Ashe contrived to sneak Dedue out of the castle, so they--along with Annette, of course--could go on a secret escapade into Fhirdiad. Though, Dedue doubted how secret this escapade was to begin with, since on the way out, they passed Dimitri and Sylvain chatting, and the two waved and told them to have fun in the city.

Whatever the initial pretense, Dedue ended up with Ashe on one arm and Annette on the other, as they led him on a meandering route through Fhirdiad. It was strange, but though Dedue had technically lived in Fhirdiad since he was fourteen, his life had been circumscribed to the walls of the castle. Ashe and Annette had had a very different perspective on the city, a familiarity with its customs, back alleys and businesses that Dedue had never had the opportunity to cultivate.

The streets were frothing with clumps of revelers, among which even a trio as strange as them passed unremarked, but the one thing that might have put a damper on the mood of the city were dark storm clouds rolling in.

It was how they ended up at an establishment that Ashe insisted they visit. The sign hanging outside it, bearing the painted image of a striped cat, declared the inn as 'The Gabby Tabby'. 

Like every tavern in the city, it was chock full of people, eating and drinking to their heart's content. Two grey tabbies could in fact be found within this establishment, one washing itself meticulously, while the other kept headbutting patrons to demand petting, and yowling loudly as it did. They were, as Ashe informed them, the children of the original gabby tabby.

The bartender seemed to recognize Ashe by sight, and passed him a key, gesturing towards the nearby corrider. Ashe nodded in thanks, and beckoned for Annette and Dedue to follow.

"Do you come here a lot?" Annette asked, puzzled by Ashe's familiarity with the inn.

"Maybe," Ashe admitted. "There's a cook here who makes the fruit and herring tarts outside of Enbarr."

This scratched at something in Dedue's memory, but it was Annette who gasped first as she recalled.

"The one who had you jumping through hoops for the recipe!" Annette blurted out. "The pear tree and the rake! You still have the scar!"

Ashe turned pink, and coughed, embarrassed. Now Dedue recalled the incident as well: Ashe had gotten stubborn about baking the tarts for him and Annette because it was a food they both enjoyed but had not gotten to eat in a while. The cook Ashe approached about teaching him their recipe had extracted a series of bizarre and convoluted favors from him, leading eventually to him coming back to the castle limping one evening. He had tried at first to brush it off only with an explanation that he had fallen out of a pear tree onto a rake, but that had naturally led to a series of questions about how he was in that position to begin with, and from there onto a much stranger explanation of events than either Dedue or Annette expected.

"Isn't that cook a criminal, or something?" Annette asked in a whisper, and looked around like she expected the cook to pounce out of the shadows at them.

"I don't think we ever established that he was," Ashe replied. "And anyway, I haven't always led the most honest life to begin with, either."

"Regardless," Dedue said, "I don't believe you should be running around on dubious errands for this person."

"I'm not!" Ashe said, a bit defensive. "I just-- Look."

He had led them down a corridor, past rows of doors, until he stopped in front of one in particular, and used the key to open it.

Inside was a regular inn room, all the more cozy for the fire already crackling in the fireplace. A table had been set out, and though everything on it was covered, there was a suggestion of food.

"They were nice enough to let me use their kitchens," Ashe said. "No rakes involved this time."

This was, in its way, marginally reassuring, and they were at least lulled by the enticing smells of food. The metal cloches that covered the dishes had enchantments that kept them warm and fresh, and that explained where Ashe had disappeared to that morning. 

It also explained a few instances over the past few weeks that Ashe and Annette had seemed to put their heads together and conspire. Annette uncovered a Daphnel stew, and leaned over to inhale the smell of it as though it exerted its own spell on her, but she gave the enchantments on the metal cloche a proud glance that made it plain who was responsible for them.

They sat to eat, and each uncovered dish revealed like an exciting new surprise. Dedue did not think of himself as someone who enjoyed surprises, but he found that it depended heavily on the surprise. Ashe had experimented with some Duscur dishes, and old favorites they used to eat together in the dining hall at the monastery, but also at least one dish from Brigid that had been served during a state visit the year before. The portions were modest in size, but the sheer variety of dishes made this a feast that even three people might not finish.

Ashe had been making wistful comments lately, about not getting the opportunity to cook as much when he was busy being a knight, but he had still somehow managed to carve out time to gather the recipes and ingredients, to secure a kitchen, a room--

Dedue leaned over, cradled the back of Ashe's head, and brought their foreheads together until they touched, and shared a breath.

"Thank you," Dedue said, and watched the rising pink along Ashe's cheeks.

"I hope everything's to your liking," Ashe grinned. 

"You are a talented cook, Ashe," Dedue replied, feeling himself smile so widely that his cheeks hurt. "But even so, nothing seasons a dish better than a loving hand."

"I think it's what I'd rather do with the rest of my life," Ashe blurted out.

Dedue and Annette looked at him, pausing at the same time because, impulsive as the admission had sounded, they had also learned to recognize when such declarations hid previous forethought.

"I mean," Ashe continued, now completely flustered, "I know I worked hard to become a knight. I know it's what I wanted. But..." He trailed off.

"It's fine to want other things," Annette offered, as Ashe seemed to wilt. 

"Yeah," Ashe muttered, and then rallied. "Yeah, I think-- I think I've made up my mind."

Annette kissed one cheek, Dedue the other, and next they fell upon the food, sampling and laughing and feeding small tidbits to one another well into the night.

Later, so late the fire had long since guttered out in the fireplace, they crawled into bed with full bellies, and piled together haphazardly, barely capable of keeping their eyes open. A heavy rain pelted against the window, its rhythmic sound as lulling as a mother's song.

"I'm going to cook like this for you guys when I open my inn," Ashe muttered as they were all on the edge of sleep.

"That may well kill us," Dedue deadpanned in response.

Annette laughed a loopy little laugh, finding the joke funnier than she would have were she wide awake.

"Sleeeep," she said, muffled as her face pressed into Dedue's shoulder. "Close your eyes, nighty-night."

Ashe huffed a small laugh of his own, but obeyed. They were asleep almost instantly after that.


End file.
